The single crow stood on the broken limb,
Looking around and around,
Cawing so loudly to bring attention to himself,
Surveying this kingdom, his kingdom,
As intently as any master could be, Determining those that were in his site,
Captivating any who were not,
His big wings would peel back
The layers of air beneath him,
His feet would dance and curl and pull
At the limb below, his neck would
Arch, and the volume of voice would
Cry from between his beak, and all
Who listened, must know, it was he
That was in charge, he that had the
Territory, it was him that was crowned the King.
Ralph Peck
Photography by Belva Shelton
Comments